I shouldnβt be here. The thought flickers through my mind and extinguishes as soon as he opens the door. His smile and his words douse my fears. Within moments, my arms are around his neck, his mouth is on mine, and his hands begin their exploration.
I met him some years ago, in a random, not-prepared to meet someone kind of way. I remember sitting in the warm summer sun, activity happening all around us, yet all my attention was focused on him. It was almost as if we were in a bubble in which nothing else could invade. Did I know that a few years later, he would be so deeply entwined in my life that I could not bear to let him go?
We casually dated for a few months, but life seemingly always got in the way. It was almost like a second job to get the time to see each other. The times we were together were amazing on so many different levels, yet we both lacked the motivation and commitment to make it occur more often. After we ended the relationship, our friendship continued, and deepened. I was never able to completely erase the romantic feelings for him from my heart β which lead me to the position I am today.
His hands have found their way up the back of my shirt, reaching to unclasp my bra. He does it in such a swift motion, as if the bra was never there to begin with. It falls to the floor, soon to be joined by our other clothing. His appreciative moan when his hands reach my breasts sends little jolts of electricity down my spine, as does his touch while he caresses, pulls and licks my nipples to their reddened peaks. He pulls my shirt off my head roughly, to get better access to what he wants.
My strengths have never laid in reading what men want. The mystery that surrounds him is what both drives me to find out more and also what infuriates me the most. I desire to be wanted and needed by him, and although I feel both those things when we are together, I crave it daily. Emotionally, physically, spiritually - for him to want me, to finally have that chance to see what might be, what could be.